


Jane Crocker In: The Case of the Missing Muse

by Laineygaynee



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, F/F, My First Fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 05:53:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12162828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laineygaynee/pseuds/Laineygaynee
Summary: Jane Crocker is one of Skaia City's finest private detectives, but nothing could prepare her for the mountain of a case Roxy Lalonde loops her into





	Jane Crocker In: The Case of the Missing Muse

**Author's Note:**

> So I did this for an English assignment and decided to post it here. Additional chapters will be added whenever my English teacher decides to give us another vocab menu, I guess.

The Case of the Missing Muse

By Jack Fitzpatrick

Chapter 1: Jane Crocker, Private Eye

The ceiling fan spun at it’s highest possible speed, leaving the office  draughty . Jane Crocker couldn’t be said to have enjoyed the cold, but she appreciated it as opposed to the  sultry nature of the summer air. Plus, she thought it added to the  austerity of her work environment. A cold place for a cold woman in a cold world, or something like that.

She was tired, really tired. She hadn’t had any cases in days, and had been boring herself silly sitting in this office all day sorting through old files. Maybe she needed a  furlough , or a better sleeping schedule. Anything to put a cease to this depressive drudgery.

Just as Jane was contemplating closing up for the night, she got a ring from her secretary and close friend, Jake. 

“Janey,” Jake said over the speaker system in his voice that hopped between thirty different accents seemingly on a whim, “We’ve got a customer wanting your attention. Rather extravagant broad, this one.”

“Send her in.” Replied Jane, perking up at the possibility of fresh work. Mayhaps excitement’s long period of  truancy from her life had finally come to an end.

A few seconds later, the door to her office opened, and the woman who  trudged in was none other than Roxy Lalonde. You’d have to be pretty gosh darned  ignorant to not have heard of Roxy Lalonde. She was Skaia city’s  preeminent  musical performer,  galvanizing  audiences across the globe with a voice that could  solicit praise from a chorus of angels. She was dressed in a white trench coat, a long, hand-knitted pink scarf trailing down to her waist from her neck. The apparel was a far cry from the sparse dresses she usually wore to performances, but it was still a very alluring outfit, perfectly matching her platinum blonde curls and bright pink eyes. Jane, sporting nothing more than a black vest over a white dress shirt, suddenly felt incredibly underdressed for the occasion, and became rather self conscious about her decision to wear a fedora indoors.

After giving the office a once-over, Roxy decided to start the talking. “You’re Jane Crocker, right? The private eye?”

Jane offered her a hand from across her desk, maintaining her composure in the name of professionalism. “You bet your bonnet I am. To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Lalonde?”

Roxy shook it as she took a seat. “Well, I had hoped to hire you for a bit of detective work.” 

She shot a glance over to a magazine sitting on Jane’s desk. The magazine in question was a trashy celebrity news serial, the only literature Jane had been able to salvage from the lobby that wasn’t one of Jake’s old Guns and Ammo issues. Like most of the magazines in Skaia city these days, the cover story claimed to have cracked the identity of the Muse, a mysterious figure whom Roxy claimed as the writer for most, if not all, of her greatest hits. The Muse had only showed up to a total of three interviews, and during each one she wore a distinctive green skull mask and black robe in order to conceal her identity. All attempts to question Lalonde or anyone close to her about who the Muse was or why she had to hide her identity had been met with silence or deliberate  ambiguity , but that didn’t stop the hackneyed pseudo-press from strumming up  implausible theories based on nothing but rumors and hearsay for sale to the  gullible public.

“I assume you’re familiar with the Muse?” Asked Roxy.

“Why sure I am,” responded Jane. “Is this about her?”

“Why yes, I’m afraid it is.” Roxy reached into her pocket and pulled out a note composed of letters cut out of various magazines. It read as follows:

WE HAVE CALLIE   
BRING $11,111,111 TO 1111 MAIN ST. BY JuNE 12, 1:11 AM

OR ELSE

Jane shot a glance to make sure that her calendar read June eleventh and that whoever wrote this note was as much of a loon as reality seemed to suggest they were. Who capitalizes everything but the letter U, anyway?

“Well that’s definitely a cause for concern.” She said. 

“You’re damn right it is.” Exclaimed Roxy in harsh  rejoinder .

“Do you have any idea who would’ve done this?” Asked the detective.

“Yes, actually. Callie, the Muse, is Lord English’s sister.”

A sudden thundercrack could be heard outside at the mention of the name English. The English family were old money, having made a killing in the casino industry during the very founding of Skaia city. However, the current head of the English family, Caliborn, was not content with his  sinecure position as the head of a gambling empire, so when he inherited his family fortune, he went about transforming the English cartel into the city’s biggest crime syndicate. He accomplished this through a wave of  treacheries and hostilities that shook the city to its core, often personally taking part in robberies and raids on rival gang hideouts to demonstrate his lack of  passivity , a trait he viewed to be some kind of mortal sin. He was psychotic, violent, and he had most of the city police force in his pocket.  _ Now she’s got me thinking of why I went private, _ Jane thought to herself

“You’re kidding.” Said Jane, wrought with genuine disbelief.

“I really wish I was, Miss Crocker. I really wish I was.”

Jane sighed before getting up from her desk. “Listen, Miss Lalonde, it’s been a pleasure, but I think going toe to toe with English is a little above my paygrade. Now if you’ll excuse me, I was just about to close up-”

“No!” Roxy exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “I’ve been running all over this city trying to find someone who can get Callie back to me, and you were my last bet!” She grabbed a hold of Jane’s collar, staring into the detective’s bright blue eyes as tears began to well up in her own. “The cops turned me down, all the other private eyes blew me off, and now I’m standing here knowing that the light of my life is out God knows where getting who knows what done to her, and I’m not going to let another damn detective let my Callie die because they’re too afraid of some kingpin!”

Jane had grown incredibly enamoured by Roxy’s  fervent display, so much so that she hardly had time to notice the silhouette of the man with the tommy gun outside her office window. When she spotted this particular fiend, Jane’s instincts kicked in, and she tackled Roxy to the floor as a storm of bullets came crashing through the door and into the office. Jane held her hands over her head to keep the plaster exploding off the walls out of her hair and off her beloved hat, pressing her elbows to her ears to shield them from the gun’s cacophonous report. 

After several terrible seconds, the shooting came to an abrupt halt. The gunman, sporting a black trilby, overcoat, and ski mask, peered in through what remained of the office window to confirm his kills. He was able to exchange a quick glance with the two women laying on the floor of the office before a trio of shots hit him in the side from down the hall. Jake, his beretta in hand, appeared in the office window, a look of relief strewn across his face.

“You two alright?” He asked.

Jane, realizing that she was very up close and personal to Roxy and her slightly disheveled, but still striking, figure, blushed slightly before shooting upwards. “Certainly, Jake. Thanks for the save.”

“Don’t mention it.” Jake gave the office a once over. Most of Jane’s little  idiosyncrasies , the Problem Sleuth posters, the fork collection, and the pictures of her loving father, had taken severe damage. “This place is going to need a real mighty fixer-upper, isn’t it?”

Jane paced her way to the back of her office, picking up a small photo that had been blown off the wall by the gunfire. It was a picture of her and her late father, in a rare instance of him letting her wear the fedora she inherited from him after his death in the line of duty. It was the same fedora she was wearing right now.

Jane crushed the photo in a fist of silent rage.

“Roxy, do you have a car?” She asked

“Of course.”

“Good. Because I’m getting the Muse back for you.” She went over to her desk and pulled out a magnum revolver, placing it in the holster at her hip. “This just got personal.”

As Roxy and Jake accompanied Jane to the car, she took in the streets of the city. At face value, it was  desolate , the streets having evacuated themselves of foot traffic due to the sound of gunfire. Jane knew better, though. Her years on the force had developed her sixth sense, the sense of instinct whose primary organ was the gut. Right now, Jane’s gut was telling her that the streets were teeming with enemies, lurking in the shadows, waiting for just the right time to strike. It was going to be a long night.

End of Chapter 1


End file.
